


Eastwood Syndrome

by Walks_With_Whitman



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walks_With_Whitman/pseuds/Walks_With_Whitman
Summary: A call from Richard during Obsidian Butterfly makes Edward reflect on the perils of becoming involved with a woman like Anita.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty dated now. The last ABVH book I read was Incubus Dreams. Still, long time readers may enjoy the nostalgia of these simpler times.

"This is Ted."

I heard a deep breath on the other line. "Ted, this is Richard Zeeman."

I'd been wondering if I would hear from one of her monsters. But I didn't intend to talk just for the sake of talking. 

The silence drew on. "Edward, are you there? Anita's with you right?"

That surprised me a little. She didn't even tell them where she was going. Not that she had to, but to leave them hanging if she intends to try to go back to them is pretty bitchy. Kind of conceited really.

It could have been fun to play with him about it, but ultimately it wouldn't be worth the effort. "Yeah, she's here."

"What happened to her? I know it's pretty bad, I felt it."

I didn't know how much to believe about this triumvirate garbage before, but I didn't think Zeeman had it in him to call me with any type of plotting in mind. He really had felt something. Jean Claude I would have hung up on instantly. 

"Yeah, it was. She flat lined, but they brought her back. She had to have some stitches in her back too."

I can tell by his breathing that he's pissed now, but he's not sure whether he's more pissed at me or at her. 

This guy made me when we first met. Man to man, or maybe just because he's a jealous guy to start with, but somehow, he knew when we met that the idea of me and Anita hooking up wasn't as alien to my thoughts as I pretend it is with her. That doesn't particularly worry me, he'll tell her or not, and I don't think she'd believe him if he did. It's pretty amusing that I'm a better actor than Richard is a truth teller. 

He's also the starring role in the play of why I'll never go for that particular little fantasy with the Executioner. 

I used to love spaghetti Westerns when I was a kid, even though they're a little before my time. 

Especially Clint Eastwood. God, what a bad ass! Or I thought so then at least. 

I went from Westerns to just being a Clint fan in general. Van Cleef and I must have had that in common. Where do you think he got the name Van Cleef? It's vintage Dollars Trilogy. I don't think there's a film festival in our future any time soon though. 

Yeah, I know, what the hell is Edward going on about? Just follow me for a minute. 

So here I was, an Eastwood fan, around that age when you aren't really a kid or an adult anymore. Then my admiration for Clint went all upside down. I think it started just after "The Outlaw Josey Wales.”

See, Old Clint found himself a woman who fascinated him. Not much of a looker really, and she sure as hell couldn't act; she's been a has-been ever since they broke up. Like I said, what about her did it for him is a mystery, the best you could say for her was that she had alright legs. But he let himself become her meal ticket. 

And that's when he went from Dirty Harry to Bronco Billy. What a fucking gyp. 

Now to compare Anita to--tells you a lot that I don't even remember the broad's name--would be pretty insulting. Anita, unlike Clint's skirt, doesn't actually need help. But they seem to have one thing in common, and I think that thing is probably a Magic Pussy. 

Jean Claude's a fucking schemer whose been around four hundred years. In four hundred years, you ought to be able to learn anything, especially how to keep from getting tied up with a woman who has a legal sanction to kill you. But she's almost managed to whip him. He's having to spin like crazy to backtrack and keep the upper hand. This metaphysical shit he "explains" to her is the sound of a man whose forgotten the idea of personal dignity as far as I'm concerned.

Then here's this chump on the phone. He's mostly straight arrow, sure, but he's killed a man hand-to-hand. That's not anything to sneeze at. It takes balls. That's one of the reasons I have to admit that he's kind of interesting to me. Jean Claude isn't much of a killer so far, strangely enough, for a vamp. This one might be.

But here he is, calling me, like a bitch, asking if Anita's with me even though he thinks--no, is terrified by the idea--that I might be making her while she's out here.

That's Magic Pussy Syndrome. Or Eastwood Syndrome if you're in mixed company. It's powerful stuff. The kind that will flush any kind of image of being a man right down the toilet without you even realizing it, because it feels so good, right then and there when you're in it. The kind that makes a man who used to be the best mercenary on film decide to play around with a chimp because his bitch wants him to do comedy.

I'm betting Anita's like that. And I have no plans of letting her make me, the real Edward, into the chimp, ever. 

Being with Donna is playacting, I'll do pretty much anything to keep Ted's life intact, even watching chick flicks--which Clint has also sadly degraded himself to act in. Not Edward though.

I may take a whole lot of cold showers over Anita, but I wouldn't hit it with Olaf's dick. 

And even with her secret weapon, eventually, if she hasn't already, and hauling ass with out even leaving them a note is pretty close, she'll get egotistical. Just like that Locke woman probably did, thinking she rated a career on her own. 

For Anita, she'll start to think she has it handled, has them whipped. That's when one of them is going to get sick of her shit and drop her. I don't mean breaking up either. They're not actors, they ARE the monsters. It's not going to wind up in tabloids or court with a palimony suit. This game she's playing is going to end with blood. 

I'll back her if she wants my help, but we aren't fucking magicians, we just do the best we can together. I'm not under any illusions about this, someone is going to be better than me one day, hell, they may just get better odds, no matter what I do to try to prevent that, and it could even be this guy on the phone. 

But if she decides to actually pick one of them, and if my opinion even matters for shit, I think she should go with the one that can at least die a natural death. 

Richard, whose still on the other line, trying not to say something shitty about her to me because I might tell her, and then she might dump him. Or just get mad and cut him off. 

"Edward are you there?” He sounds like he's already asked once. “I'm worried about her getting in over her head. She ignores the politics involved like they'll just go away if she flashes her badge, and I understand the werewolves in Santa Fe are some type of biker gang."

Having seen Anita open a vein for one of his contemporaries, this little speech irritates me. But I let it go. "We're after something more wild than a vamp or a lycanthrope this time. She handled herself with the local pack here just fine. They were impressed that she was only a human," I added. Maybe that matters. Shit! I don't want to care about this crap. Anita's already drug me down this low, that I'm discussing monster sociology. 

He let his breath out. "And the Master of the City?"

“She seems to like Anita alright," I replied. Fuck it, may as well throw Jean Claude a bone too since I'm actually talking about this in the first place. 

Silence fills the line again. He's thinking, trying to decide how to ask me something I wouldn't answer anyway. He chooses not to. Good call. 

"So you're ah ... you're looking out for her?"

"We're backing each other up like always," I replied. "I gotta go pick her up, she's being released. You want me to tell her anything for you?"

Ah, jackpot. Yeah, he wants to say a whole helluva lot, but not through me. "Her leaving a forwarding number would be a good idea in the future," he finishes, in a tight voice.

"I'll let her know," I respond, hanging up. 

God what a fucking conversation! I need to kill something, this sort of shit feels way too Bridges of Madison County for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I don't know where the current storyline for Anita has gone at this point. She may even have already fucked Edward by now for all I know! But I've started consolidating all my old computers recently, which has led me to want to get all of my fics together in one place too.  
> So again, hopefully there is still enough nostalgia for those first ten ABVH novels that someone will enjoy this. Thank you for reading, kudos, or commenting.


End file.
